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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22938232">Gray Hair + Eye Crinkles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto'>impossiblepluto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Gen, George Eads Appreciation Week, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:35:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22938232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George Eads Appreciation Day 5: Favorite Look</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Dalton &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gray Hair + Eye Crinkles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just something short, sweet, and fluffy for "Favorite Look" day. (Keep your fingers cross that I finish yesterday's whump prompt 🤞🏻) </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mac wakes up in a hospital bed, frowning as he listens to Jack's low rumbling drawl. Trying to make sense of the familiar words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kabul. This, is that third time in Paris on the train. That, is New York in '14. This whole patch over here, that's Cairo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jack?" Mac mumbles, his voice raspy from disuse, screams, and smoke inhalation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, kiddo, you awake this time?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac grunts, shifting in the bed. "I think so?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to open your eyes and prove it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s answering chuckle is low and dark and a hint of desperation, that tells Mac this was bad. That Jack is worried and if he wants the chance to sleep again he’s going to need to give Jack some reassurance. So with a sigh that rakes across sore vocal cords he pries gritty eyelids open. The room is dim, but his eyes still burn as the light hits them. They snap closed again and he groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, come on now, you’ve been kicked back relaxing long enough. I want to see those eyes.” Jack leans over the side rail, cupping Mac's cheek. It’s warm and comforting and Mac wants to stay like this for just a moment longer. Jack’s thumb stroking along his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff of fond exasperation Mac raises his eyelids again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack beams when he sees Mac’s foggy blue eyes. Clearer than before.  Alert. Tracking Jack's movements. Pulling his face from Jack's hand and looking around the room. Definitely feeling better then, if he's not giving into Jack's touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There he is,” Jack’s smile softens. “I think you really might be with me this go ‘round. Third time’s the charm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac struggles to sit up. “Third?” He croaks and winces, rubbing his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack rolls his eyes, reaching over and using the controls on the side rail that his stubborn partner ignored to raise the head of the bed then fluffs Mac’s pillow. Tucking the blankets around his chest, which Mac allows. Maybe he’s not feeling quite as good as he’d like Jack to think he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to try some water?” Jack reaches for the cup on the bedside table, tilting the straw towards Mac’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac grabs for the cup, closing a shaky hand around it and glares at Jack when he doesn’t let go, carefully lending extra support. Stubborn enough to pretend he doesn’t need the assistance, but Jack can feel Mac’s trembling muscles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cool water splashes against his rough throat and he forgets to be annoyed with Jack, sucking greedily on the straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy with that. Take small sips. Make sure it stays down. I don’t want to be wearing that later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac rolls his eyes, but gives back the cup. Much too soon in his opinion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack scratches his fingers lightly through singed blond hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s nose wrinkles at the acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lucky for you, the smell will wash off and you have plenty of hair to cover up the scorched bits,” Jack’s fingers card through the strands again. “Some of us ain't that lucky."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac's brow creases in confusion and worry. He doesn't remember Jack being in the building when it blew. "Are you okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Am I okay?" Jack throws his hands in the air and stands, pacing the length of the bed. "No, I'm not okay. You see this, Mac?" Jack gestures to his head. Mac leans forward, eyes narrowing with concern as he tries to see what Jack is pointing to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Every one of these grays is your fault."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that what you were doing when I woke up? Listing the missions that 'turned you gray.' Again?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, cause apparently it didn't sink in the last time!" Jack collapses back into his chair near the head of Mac's bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were gray when I met you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can trace every last one of these hairs back to a mission."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Salt and pepper beard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hair almost as black as night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wrinkles," Mac cringes animatedly, gesturing to his own face. “Deep craggy crevices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Laugh lines," Jack protests, his voice raising an octave in objection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Joints popping."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll pop you." He grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac smiles at the teasing tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All I'm askin' hoss," Jack is serious now. Dark eyes meet blue. "Is that you take it easy on me. Don't make me keep living through almost losing you. My heart can't handle that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac ducks his head and nods. Even after all this time, Jack's concern for him causes his face to flush. Pleasantly confused. Awkward bashfulness. Amused self-consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack smiles softly. One day, he'll get Mac to accept how important he is. For now he eases the sudden heaviness in the room by resuming his teasing.  "And this whole patch back here, really is from Cairo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cairo wasn't my fault."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cairo was absolutely your fault."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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